Twins
by Cretha Loesing
Summary: Lord Roland is an old lord with a dangerous secret, called John. John is a cursed boy with a dark past- and he's after Roland. Can Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli stop John from killing Roland? And can they save him before it's to late? T for adult themes.
1. Prologue

Twins

Prologue: An unfortunate surprise

_Legolas walked through the silent camp, his eyes alert._

_He couldn't understand it, how could these humans sleep for so long? They could easily be mistaken for dead at times like this. It was strange how they always slipped into the same coma-like state each night, blind to the world. And they could not go long without succumbing to this deep unconsciousness, was the world so tiring to them?_

_A smaller tent stood amongst the others. It sagged, sloppily pitched, as if mere children had set it up. Silently, Legolas slipped through the flap, his curiosity brimming._

_Two small boys lay curled next to each other, no more than thirteen. Black hair framed their pale faces. However, one wore the serious expression of a man that had seen war; the other's face was peaceful, but melancholy. A strange weight hung around them, an aura of solemn wisdom._

_Their breaths were measured._

_Solemnly, Legolas turned to exit the tent. Lifting up the flap, he let moonlight spill into the darkness. Eyes burned into his back._

_He slowly turned around._

_One of the boys sat up, his face overshadowed in darkness. He glared at the elf angrily, fire in his eyes. Ironically enough, his companion slept on silently in the moonlight._

"**Don't tell, master elf."**_ His voice was chillingly cold. Dead seriousness weighted every word. Legolas' heart quickened, with a panicked fear he hadn't felt since he'd laid eyes upon the Balrog. The boy's expression darkened, and flames flickered in his eyes. Banishing his fear, Legolas turned back to exit the tent._

"**Or I'll kill you." **_Legolas froze at the boy's words. In that moment, he neither doubted that the boy could, and would, kill him. Mastering himself yet again, Legolas turned back to the boy, and nodded. The elf silently praised his courage._

"**I will not,"**_ The elf spoke in slow words, _**"I will not**_**, Naurheneb.**_**"**

_Legolas instinctually felt a deep respect for the boys. Some sort of power flowed through their veins; a glowing strength within them. The feeling was so strong, Legolas swore for a moment he could see the golden lines of energy flow through their veins._

_Legolas walked back through the silent camp, his eyes weary._


	2. Chapter 1

"My lords." The guard bowed deeply, startling Legolas out of his trance. Aragorn and Gimli noticed this, but did not comment.

"Guard Arlathain," Aragorn greeted the man, "I believe Lord Roland-"

"Hush! Do not speak his name so loudly;" Arlathain looked around warily, "who knows who could be listening in this night." So saying, the guard held open the door and let them through. He shut it behind himself, as the three hunters examined the keep.

It was dark and musty. Cold air made them rub their arms for warmth and cobwebs gathered in the corners. Dust rose under Arlathain's footsteps as he appeared in front of them.

"This way." The man guided them through the house, dust rising behind him. Billowing clouds, however, followed his guests.  
>"Why such need for caution?" Aragorn asked him.<p>

"My lord has had an unwelcome visitor as of late, as well as several warnings… in various forms." Arlathain threw a glance around the room.

"We have not used much of the house recently. It was abandoned for the backrooms."

"This cold makes my heart shiver." Gimli commented.

"Indeed." Legolas muttered.

"A fair amount of the house has fallen into neglect in recent months. The only rooms in use currently are the kitchen and the basement, besides a few passages in the back." Arlathain hesitated, coming to a shut door. He muttered something incoherent to himself.

"What of the servants?" Aragorn asked.

"They have been housed with their families. My lord provides their full wages until the danger passes." Arlathain told him, drawing out a key.

"Generous of him." Legolas commented. The lock audibly turned, and Arlathain opened the heavy-looking wooden door. It whined softly, but he pushed it aside like it was nothing. He stepped to the side, waving them through the doorway.

The room was dark and cold, much like the rest of the house, however it was not covered in dust as the rest of the house. It was lighter too, a soft glow emanated from a flickering lantern. In the dim red light, the companions could just make out the tapestries on the walls. Legolas stared hard at one, and his eyes were surprised at the detailed image of a hunt.

A young, light-brown haired man wrestled with a wild boar. Its tusks were long and white, and the tapestry portrayed it as big as the man. The forest was green and mossy, sunlight streamed between the leaves. A silver sword, partially unsheathed, lay at the feet of one of the trees. The scabbard, however, was a deep green in color, with thin silver lines running through it. The hilt was set with a large piece of amber.

Arlathain moved in front of them, and pulled back the tapestry. A long passageway, lit up brightly with torches stretched into darkness before them. He gestured at them to go through it.

"This will take you to the Lagoon."

"The Lagoon?"

Arlathain smiled sheepishly, but the look of happiness on his face lasted only a minute.

"Lord Roland's comes from a vary prosperous family. In times past, his ancestors kept a larger household, and many more armed men on hand then my lord does now. The lagoon was drained of water, and used as an extensive larder and an armory long ago. However times have changed, and my lord emptied it of the rusting armor and weapons. It has been filling with water, slowly, year-by-year- it was abandoned, but we do occasionally use it for water in the summer months." The guard explained, and gestured again for them to enter.

Aragorn hesitated, and Gimli took the lead. Aragorn and Legolas followed as the tapestry swung shut behind them, the air musty and stale. The ceiling was low, Aragorn and Legolas had to duck their heads a little bit to get through. The stench faded away, as Gimli, then Aragorn and Legolas, stepped onto the wooden platform at the end.

It was dark. The only light came from the passage behind them.

"Greetings my lords." A voice echoed off of the rocky walls around them. They heard a splashing, and a figure came into view, and climbed over the railing.

The old man stood up.

"My king," He said sinking to his knees, then looked up, "and my lords."

"Rise, Lord Roland, you did not send for us to pay your respects." Aragorn said.

"Indeed I didn't," Roland said with a smile, though a shadow passed over his face, "nor do I intend to pay my taxes, though long overdue." A fiery look shown in his eyes, but it faded, leaving a sickly pale, tired old man in front of them.

"Please forgive my hospitality, I have fallen upon hard times of late." He said, and half choked as he coughed.

"What happened to the fearless old lord that visited me after the black tower had fallen?" Aragorn asked, concerned.

"He is dead. He has died and been replaced by a terrified old fool." Roland said with a smile, but it didn't reach his eyes.

"In truth I fear for my life," he said, turning away from them, "though not from old age, I assure you. My ignorance has brought fear unto death upon my servants- it is likely I have let loose a terrible thing." He paused, and gripped the railing.

"I ramble," He stated, the took a rasping breath and began again,

"It was three days before the siege of Minas Tirith. A two boys, Marc and Johnathon Anthony, appeared on my doorstep one day. They were begging for shelter late at night. They were shivering, cold and ragged.

"'Please sir,' Marc begged me, 'can't you spare us a little room?' I took them in of course, you can call me foolish, but I do not regret what I did. They boys hacked up blood, and were clearly ill.

"I called a healer, and he told me it would be a miracle if they lasted the night." Roland sighed, and leaned over the balcony, gazing intently into the darkness.

"It would have been better if they'd died that night; but a miracle happened, and they healed almost entirely over night.

"Perhaps that should have warned me, but Ona called it a blessing from the Valar, so we thought nothing more of it. I practically adopted the boys."

"Who is Ona?" Aragorn asked.

"The head cook, she ran the house back then." Roland said, his voice carrying a hint of sadness.

"In the time they were living with me, they never left each-other's side, not even to sleep. Marc was the fiery one, and he had a protective streak when it came to his brother. John on the other hand was quiet and soft-spoken; not to mention he was very sensitive, it didn't take much to make him cry. Both were alone and aloof all of the time, though Marc seemed to be constantly brooding, and John had this aura of sadness.

"When we came under siege, neither of them seemed to react to it. They were not concerned in the slightest bit, if anything they seemed less withdrawn and gloomy.

"When I told them to leave with Ona, Marc went wild. He had always had a temper, but somehow this sent him over the edge. We argued well into the night, the boy was as stubborn as a donkey and seemed not to hear my words at all. It was like fighting a wildfire with oil, or calming a wolf. The more I tried to calm him, the fiercer he argued. Ona joined the argument at some point, and she managed to calm him a little.

"At some point she mentioned that he could be killed, and that…" Roland sucked in a breath, "never had I seen such anger, and I doubt I will again.

" 'Death?' he screamed at her, 'experience? I have seen more bloodshed than most of your seasoned warriors. Can you not see the youths, naïve, ignorant, inexperienced fools going to fight? Many are younger than either of us! As for dying!' He shouted at her, 'death will find us, earlier than most, no matter what course we take. Our lives mean nothing!'

"We tried to make him see reason, but to no avail. He became violent, threw various furniture at us and screamed at us to leave. We left, but what we heard outside the door was terrible.

"He screamed and howled, and we heard loud banging and crashing come from the room. Needless to say, Marc was destroying furniture. Then we heard John in the room, calmly say something in a foreign tongue. Their voices rose, and it sounded like a storm was brewing in their. Then John started screaming.

"We tried to open the door, but it was firmly held shut. Ona got one of the guards, Agravain, to come. He helped us break down the door." Roland bent farther over the rail, rasping-ly coughing as if in pain.

"Roland." Aragorn quickly moved to his side, and helped the elderly man to sit.

Roland cleared his throat, and continued his story.

"When we entered it was eerily quiet.

"The room looked like an entire war had been fought in it. Blood splattered the walls, furniture was destroyed. Threads of fabric floated through the air. Sawdust and frayed pieces of fabric were stuck to the walls with blood and a black substance that looked and smelled of orc's blood." Roland shivered.

"I'll never forget them. Marc stood his face twisted into an evil snarl, panting heavily. John was curled below him, paler, thinner, clearly exhausted.

"Many of the servants had told me something was off about them. In fact, I could even tell that they were not normal; but I had always thought that they had had some terrible experience on the streets. Nothing… nothing so bestial as how they looked." Roland looked up at the companions, his eyes haunted.

"I swear, as would Ona and Arlathain, that Marc's eyes were golden, and Johnathon's eyes were blacker than a moonless night.

"John stared at us, perfectly calm and emotionless. He said: 'Roland-chan and Ona-san need not worry no more. We have agreed to go with Ona-san into the caves.' He looked so, so…" Roland shuddered, "_unnatural, as if he was emotionless._" The three hunters shivered, each picturing a similar image to that which Roland had seen.

"After that, they said not a word. Neither of them protested fleeing at all. Ona later confided that both seemed… spent, John however, was clearly pale and shook slightly. Whether it was from fatigue, fear, or something else, I could not tell.

"They were separated from Ona, and decided to take their own paths. She didn't see them go, and they didn't return. We were worried, terrified even.

"Three days later, the boys appeared to me again. Marc was clearly ill, he was pale, shivering, thin and weak. For once, it was John who supported him. The boys eyes were practically lifeless, I have never seen one look so broken or betrayed." Roland looked down, turning away from them as his shoulders shook slightly.

"He was dying. It was as clear as day. And the hate John regarded me with made me feel shame and guilt- as if somehow, it was my fault his brother was dying.

"They informed me that Marc was dying, and they were leaving to fight at the black gate. I never should have let them go… but they appeared immensely powerful. The twins could be petrifying when angry, just a single glare…" Roland shook, weeping quietly into his hands.

The Hunters did not know how to react. How could they console him? It was clear he had aged excessively under the guilt, sadness and plain fear of these boys.

On the more logical side, such a fear instilled in him by mere… _children_ was not natural. The changing of their eyes, their wrathful strength, their strange ways. It was clear they carried a dark past, and that the darkness lay deep inside of them.

"And, Lord Roland, what makes you speak of this now?" Gimli asked. The man shook, choking on his voice. Footsteps sounded in the corridor behind them.


End file.
